So, I know you’re never supposed to let your guard down with training or working with animals, whether they be wild or in human care. But, dolphins are just so darn adorable and lovable that it’s hard not to just say to yourself, “Okay, I’m safe here.” Today, I learned my lesson, ten-fold. During a natural swim, where there is no human to dolphin contact expect any contact that the dolphins decide to make…well, let’s just say that contact was made. Leo, the little boy that everyone else in the lagoon teases and chases, decided it was his turn to pick on someone his own size, or close to it—me. The thing is, I don’t think that he got the memo on the fact that he weighs exactly 3 times my weight. And that I don’t have a layer of blubber to cushion blunt impacts. Or that I meant him no harm, for that matter. Today, Leo had his own agenda: show Amelia, in every way possible, that I am just downright upset with her. No, infuriated. During the swim, Leo proceeded to bite me (more mouthing than biting really, but terrifying nonetheless when you see them going for your arm) and then yelled at me. Now, dolphin yelling may seem like a joke, as they always seem to look so happy and cheerful all the time. But, let me tell you, when an angry dolphin is up in your face, in their aqueous turf, and they’re screaming at you…oh boy, you better pray they can’t tell that your heart just skipped a beat. Oh wait…they can. When dolphins yell, they generally get right up in your face (I’m talking nose-to-nose), open their mouths and squawk. Not that scary on video, but my goodness does it make for a good diuretic when you’re in their territory witnessing the act face-to-face. Why Leo was upset with me, I do not know. But it remains a fact that these are animals, not humans (although we are in fact animals, I’m simply making the distinction here before anthropomorphism and non-human animals). We cannot give them humanistic attributes and expect them to live up to those attributes. I cannot say to Leo, “I love you,” and expect him to show me some type of gesture in return, and yet on Sunday he may be lovesick with the idea of simply being near me. We, as separate species, are on separate schedules, of our wants and needs, of all things. And that is why, while I was simply swimming along and minding my own business, that I felt a sudden and pointed pain at the center of my chest as I went flying backward through the water. All of a sudden survival mode kicked in and I was scurrying up the wall of the lagoon like a scared mouse that had just had its tail lopped off by the mousetrap. Two of the trainers looked to me as if nothing had happened and for a moment I was unsure of why there wasn’t a commotion about what had just occurred.
“I can’t—” I started to say, but was cut short as my lungs refused to take in more air. “—breathe. I can’t breathe.” The trainers looked at me calmly. I was less than calm, to put it lightly. I had just had a 375 pound mass slam into my sternum and I was not about to accept that nothing should be done about it. I felt at my chest where Leo had charged me with his rostrum, expecting there to be a hole of some sort, something dramatic. It took me a few minutes to return to normal breathing. As I tried to grapple my way out of the lagoon one of the trainers approached me slowly.
“Okay, what I need you to do is get back in the water.” I looked at her like it was my last wish to be anywhere near the water, but stopped climbing nonetheless. “If we let you out now, we’re telling Leo that he got what he wanted, that he got a reaction out of you by getting you to leave the lagoon.” As I slipped back into the water I tried to slow my heart rate. They can echolocate to tell when your pulse has dropped or quickened, and I did not want Leo to see that mine was suddenly pounding away senselessly. When I got out of the water several minutes later I had forgotten my manners and left the trainers down at the lagoon with buckets to carry as I slunk away to the office where I had my breakdown exactly how I wanted it: out of sight and unbeknownst to them. I knew that it was the adrenaline that was causing me to freak out, but the simple presence of the stuff wasn’t enough to convince me that my reaction wasn’t wholly due to a hormonal response. You think you know these creatures and then when things like this happen you feel like you can’t trust them anymore. But why did I trust them in the first place? It felt almost like a harsh breakup. I’d say “Morning Leo, hello handsome,” every morning, to which he’d wiggle delightedly and click excitedly. And now, this? When the trainers came back up they told me all about incidents they’d had with previous dolphins, how hurtful it really can feel when you have a bond with them. And it’s true; I think the fear I felt was completely due to the fact of my utter surprise at the incident. And, why was I surprised? Because I didn’t think Leo would want to harm me. But, today he did. Lesson learned. Even though it’s now difficult to breathe and every time I sneeze I feel like maybe my chest is going to explode…Leo’s still a sweetheart, I’ll just have to learn to echolocate by the next time he plots a sneak attack, because this dolphin’s given a whole new meaning to the term “broken heart”.
*Disclaimer: No animals were harmed in the creation of this blog post. Well…unless you count me. :)
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